


Darkness Darkness Part One: Be My Pillow

by MouseyMiss



Series: Darkness Darkness [1]
Category: Orphan Black
Genre: Child Abuse, Confinement, Drowning, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseyMiss/pseuds/MouseyMiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When I was seven, the nuns said I had devils inside me..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Darkness Part One: Be My Pillow

She stood with her hands clasped, skin stinging from the nuns' furious scrubbing. As if they could cleanse the devils they said lived in her with soap and water so cold it took her breath. Did she have devils inside her? Maybe. One two three four sisters held her down in the water while one two took turns bathing her. She was bad. She bit. Hit. Scratched. Kicked. Screamed. Then one two three four five six sisters held her under the water till she breathed it in instead of air. Then she went sleeping. They let her up then. She coughed for a long time. Threw up water. All over them.

Helena bit her lip. She shouldn't smile about that. It was bad. But it was funny too because their dresses were dirty and they would have to wash them and there was no one around so--her hands hid the giggle that only God heard. She mumbled a prayer and hoped He would forgive her.

She was good after that. Mostly. Helena sniffled. Wiped her nose on her sleeve. She cried when they washed her hair, but that was alright because she sat still. _No more fighting. No more being bad Helena._ Or Sister Olga would put her in the cellar again. Helena snarled at the empty room. Sister Olga put her in the cellar a lot. One day the nun would be sorry. Sister Olga would repent for locking her up in the cold and the dark. One day one day one day one--

Footsteps.

She straightened. Pulled at her skirt. The dress was grey. Long. Covered her feet. New. Scratchy. She did not like it. But that was rude. She'd get her mouth washed out with soap for saying that. Her shoes squeaked like mice as she hopped from one foot to the other. They were new, too. Her hair, still dripping, was brushed and tied back with a black ribbon. The top of her head still hurt from the brush yanking out bits of her hair. Only one two nuns to hold her still that time, while one brushed.

She had to look _presentable_. Because Father Alexi was coming. To see if she had devils inside her or not. Maybe she did not. She had read and read and read all the stories in the Bible about Jesus and the Apostles casting out demons. She did not cut herself. She did not tell the nuns they were servants of Jesus--they were, but nothing made her say it. She knew who Jesus was, The Son of God, but everyone else did, too, because of The Bible.

She was not telling anyone something they did not know already, like the people in The Bible did. And nothing besides her own faith made her say it. She wanted to, because it was true. There was not some other _thing_ inside her masking her say it because it was afraid and did not want to go back to hell. She did not know things that hadn't happened yet.

But sometimes she screamed. Sometimes--a lot--she threw fits. But she screamed because she was frightened or mad. She threw fits because she was mad. _She_ did those things. Because she was a bad child. Not because devils were inside her. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. Rocked back and forth. That was true. She was only bad. Not possessed. Wasn't she?

Father Alexi would tell her. The door opened and he came into the room. Did she like Father Alexi? Maybe. Maybe not. He was old, with hair the same color as rain clouds and a voice like hands slapping her ears for not listening. She flinched, ducking her head, when he said, "I hear you've been giving the nuns trouble." His fingers wrapped around her chin, jerking her head up. "Look at me when I speak to you."

Helena put her hands in her pockets. Told her fingers _no scratching_. Told her feet _no kicking_. Her hands _no hitting_. Her teeth _no biting._ Her voice _no screaming._ She had to be a _good girl._ So she stood still as Father Alexi asked her questions. "What did she do?" She yelled bit hit kicked scratched threw things stabbed Sister Marta in the hand with a fork last week because the sister tried to take her food and she had not eaten it all yet. The words all ran out of her mouth so fast maybe he couldn't understand them all.

Father Alexi raised his hand and she whined, throwing her arm over her face. _No hitting no hitting no hitting please._ She chanted the words to herself. The priest sighed. Rubbed his head. Helena put her arm down. Chewed her lip. She'd made his head hurt. That was bad. Maybe she should say sorry.

But he asked, "Why did you do all those things?" before she could apologize. She was angry. Or afraid. Father Alexi asked "Why," again. Maybe he did not believe her. The sisters never did. He said, "Why were you angry? What are you afraid of?" She looked down. He would not understand. He would say if she was a good girl she wouldn't have anything to be angry about, or afraid about. He smacked her. Lifted her head again. "I told you to look at me, Helena. Now. Tell me. What could you possibly be angry about, or afraid of, that you didn't bring on yourself? The sisters took you in, or have you forgotten that? They saved you from abandonment."

Helena said the words with him, "They saved me from abandonment," like she'd learned her prayers--saying them over and over again till whenever she said the first word the rest followed. Like baby ducks after their mother all in a line. They saved me from abandonment one two three four five. She said, "No, Father. I have not forgotten that."

Father Alexi patted her head. "Good girl," then came more questions. Did she do the bad things on purpose, because she wanted to, or because something else made her? She twisted her fingers together. On purpose. She knew it was bad. But she did it anyway. Nothing made her do it. Only her. She chose to. Did she believe in The Trinity--The Father The Son and The Holy Spirit? Yes. He told her, "Say your prayers," and she did--The Our Father, The Hail Mary, The Glory Be, all the ones the sisters taught her. She recited The Credo when he asked her to. He said, "I saw you at Mass this morning. How did it make you feel?" Good. Happy. He smiled at that. Patted her head again. Said, "Good girl," again.

Father Alexi asked her to pick up her bed. She tried. Couldn't. He asked if she knew things no one else did. "Yes. There are mice living in the walls." How did she know that? "I hear them." The priest chuckled. Was that all she knew that no one else did? "Yes." The fork went though Sister Marta's hand. "Yes." But she was very very very very very angry and the fork was very very big and very very sharp. Ukrainian was the only language she knew. "Yes." She was certain? Helena closed her eyes. Thought very very very hard. "Yes."

The priest nodded. Said, "Very well. You have no devils inside you, child." He backed away. Stood up very tall. "But you are a bad, ungrateful child. The sisters took you in. Gave you food, clothing, shelter, and you have the gall to disobey them so utterly they believe you possessed. You should be ashamed of yourself and I hope to see you've thoroughly repented by the time I come again." He left before she could say anything.

Helena walked to her bed. Curled up on it. Hugged her knees. She wasn't possessed. Good. But also bad--though that was wicked to think. Just like her. She was only a very very bad girl, with no excuse for why. Helena whimpered, rocking back and forth. She would be put in the cellar again. "No." She shook her head. "No no no no no no no no."the clear was cold. The cellar was dark. She jumped up started to crawl under her bed. Stopped. Last time she did that, Sister Olga hit her legs with a ruler till they bled before she locked her up. Helena sat back down on the bed. Maybe if she didn't fight them, they would let her out sooner. Maybe.

The door opened and Sister Olga walked in. "Come here, you." Her fingers bit into Helena's arm as she pulled her up off the bed. "Nasty little brat." The nun tugged her down the hall. Into the kitchen. She opened the big wood doors and led Helena down all the many, many steps. At the bottom, she dropped her arm. Grabbed her ear. "You make one sound while you're down here, and I will sew your mouth shut. You hear me?" Helena nodded. Choked back a yelp as Sister Olga pinched her arm. "Answer me."

"Yes, sister." Helena sat down on the last step. Watched as the nun walked up the stairs. She knew better than to follow. The door at the top slammed shut, the sound bouncing off the walls. She dropped to her hands and knees. Walking down here made the floor move under her feet. Crawled down the stairs. Over to her bed--a mattress pushed to against the wall. She sat down, hugging her knees. Further down that wall was a metal bucket. She used it as a toilet when she had to stay down here a long time. Maybe this time would not be so long. Father Alexi said be would come back. They would let her out then. Wouldn't they?


End file.
